


100 Words Across Dark Kilometers

by landofspaceandrainbows (cereus)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Carapaces, Drabbles, F/F, Minor Kismesissitude, Other, Selfcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22280584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereus/pseuds/landofspaceandrainbows
Summary: homestuck drabbles, focusing on the carapacians, just experimenting, exactly what it says on the can(can opener included)
Relationships: Jack Noir/Jack Noir, PM/BQ (Homestuck)
Kudos: 1





	1. PM/BQ

The fair carapace and hints of azure blue and gold make such pleasing contrast against the ruby carpet and glittering dark glass walls, and she's trembling, but something hard in her eyes, fetching. You crook one long, sculpted, finger and draw her closer. You say she already has her directions, but you might offer further advice, but with a price... if she's ready to pay. She nods and leans toward you, and suddenly you're pressing lips to lips with bruising force and face to flushing face.

You call attention to her blush, she doesn't have anything to say about that.


	2. JN/JN

you squat in the corner carefully scratching another line into the crumbling chrysanthemum-coloured wall, your right arm still burning slightly from attempting to reach the keys scattered outside your cell from the unconscious guard, well, from beating the guy unconscious too, if you’re being honest. “fuckin big haired, imperial broads and their lousy assignments”, you mutter and wonder if it’s worth another try…. suddenly you feel a thwap of displaced air to the back of your shoulders as the door bangs open, and you whirl round with your knife, scratching skin before you remember that it’s just the one you folded out of that dirty magazine C. D. smuggled you. but it doesn’t matter anyway because you feel yourself pinned against the wall. an arm pressing against your shoulders. “we’re busting you outta here now, so shut the fuck up”, the voice sounds familiar. the face looks familiar too, very familiar from all the faint reflections in the damn windows, except this one is wearing a distinguished looking hat.

“you got that, punk?” you hear that voice say again rough and hoarsened by cigarettes and god knows what else, and it shivers down your spine and you can barely stand.


End file.
